Judas
by Von Jaeger
Summary: 'Elimine…send me to the depths of Hell for what I have done.' One-shot. Read and review.


**_Disclaimer: I do not own Elibe nor the characters; Nintendo has those rights._**

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><p><strong>Judas<strong>

The commoners assembled around the center of the town square, leaving their tasks to be performed at a later time. They gazed upon the large wooden structure in the middle, by the fountain. The gallows stood dark and foreboding against the gray and brown of the stone and wood buildings, casting an overwhelmingly depressing view of the city.

The sky overhead was dark, covered by gray clouds that seemed as if they would burst from water. The gray sky looked much like the rest of the world: gray and emotionless. It was as if Elimine herself had turned her back upon the town, casting her shadow on the inhabitants. The green cloaked man standing near the platform hoped as much.

The brown bag at his waist seemed heavy.

A small procession of soldiers began; they were garbed in violet, be it their armor or their robes. A man carried a bugle whilst another held a large snare drum. They marched down the main street into two tight columns, eyes never straying from the large wooden platform in front of them. Mark sneered as he saw the grins on their faces: worthless dogs, the lot of them.

Behind the soldiers, a royal looking man rode in a magnificent cart, pulled by two white horses. Unlike his normal appearances in public, the blonde king did not raise his hand in greeting to the crowd; his eyes were fixed ahead, seemingly testing himself to a battle of wills with the black gallows. They reached the platform, where the king dismounted the chariot; he ascended the short flight of stairs before his royal aide followed, a scroll clasped in his hands. The king folded his hands behind his back, his many rings glinting slightly.

The leather bag seemed to weigh more on his belt, threatening to pull it off; Mark checked the clasp and found it to be securely fastened.

A bugle sounded as a cart was drawn out to the center of the square. It was covered with canvas, black and dark in color. A pale white horse brought the cart out, never straying of its straight path to the gallows. Mark thought that it was fitting that a classical sign for the reaper – a pale horse and a scythe – would be leading the cart's occupants to their death.

Jeers and calls were yelled to the covered wagon, causing Mark to grimace. The people within didn't deserve to have such things said to them. As the wagon slowed to a halt, Mark contemplated running out and pleading for the king to reconsider – he didn't however. It was no use now.

He patted the bag and was surprised to feel each coin; every piece felt as if it were as heavy as a person. Fitting analogy, Mark thought.

A large blue haired man was led from the wagon, his hands bound behind him. A piece of rotten fruit landed squarely on his chest, ye the man did not falter as he was led up the steps. He was pushed to the farthest noose, his back straight and his head high.

'_Oh mighty Hector…so straight and true.'_

Red came into his vision as the red haired prince was pulled from the cart, his face a mask of stoicism. A disgruntled man yelled out insults as Mark watched as the prince was led to the gallows, his hands bound like Hector's were. He took the center noose and Mark felt as though his heart would explode.

'_Oh kind Eliwood…so virtuous and chivalrous.'_

However, the sight that caught his attention the most was the woman that was being led. Every one of the other lords had been bruised and beaten, yet looked none for the better. The proud Sacaen princess, however, looked defeated, broken. As she took her spot at the last noose, Mark knew that it wasn't the beatings that had broken her spirit. It had been him.

'_Oh proud Lyndis…so graceful and caring.'_

The pieces of rope were lowered over their heads slowly; the armored knights that stood beside them did it without any kindness or any remorse. The executioner, a large burly man who looked as if he were a guard, seized the handle with two hands. The royal aide read out the false charges brought against the three Lycian lords, sentencing them to death.

He looked at their faces when this was read. Hector's eyes burned with an intensity that only a lord of Ostia could muster; Eliwood's with a hope that prayed for the fate of his murderers. Lyn's however, searched the crowed frantically before he realized she was looking at him; her eyes blinked once before despair filled them, a longing for past times.

Mark closed his eyes as the wood underneath them shifted, caused the ropes to snap harshly. He didn't open his eyes until a great cry went up; he heard as their bodies were dumped into the cart they had arrived in. Mark opened his eyes to see the mighty king of Bern walking towards him, a smug look on his face.

His hand clenched.

"Ah, tactician." The king nodded as Mark nodded his head lower. "A shame that you only settled for such a small reward. I would have expected more."

"Small?" Mark pulled the brown bag from his waist as the coins inside of it jingled. The bag suddenly felt much lighter as he whipped it at the king of Bern, feeling satisfied as the man's head snapped to the side. "This is no reward. This is a sentencing." He spat at the king, watching as the saliva hit the man's face. He didn't need to look to know that at least three blades were thrusting for his torso.

He wasn't going to move. Instead, he simply looked to the now empty gallows, where his greatest friends had been murdered. Murdered by him.

'_Elimine…send me to the depths of Hell for what I have done.'_

The thirty pieces of silver from the bag fell to the earth, where they mixed with the blood of a traitor.

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><p><em>Oh my...I personally liked this one-shot. R&amp;R<em>


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